


We can fix this right?

by Penguin117



Series: I swear it's like I'm cursed or something [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Humor, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Peter always did have the worst luck didnt he?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguin117/pseuds/Penguin117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Peter wanted was his web shooters, but no the stupid lab just had to blow up. Now he can't control his powers, everything's covered in webbing and it just goes downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The itsy bitsy spider

His footsteps thudded softly against the marble floors as he stepped out of his room, shutting the door quietly. _Just act natural, no one's here._ He looked behind him out of instinct and laughed, realizing how suspicious that would've looked if someone was there right now. Looking at the stairs and deciding he really didn't want to make to much noise running down for his mission, he went for the elevator instead. _Right, just slip into the lab, grab my things and slip out. No problem_ Peter thought, turning around to go to the other side of the hall. As much as he'd hated to admit it, he really sucked at keeping things going as planned, with his luck.He tried walking nonchalantly down the hallway hands in his pockets, and strolled into the elevator. Pressing the button for level 4, he sat down on the tiled floor as the elevator hummed in its movement down. _Gonna take a minute to go from 19 to 4._ _I wonder if anyone's down there right now,_ He sighed, looking up to the elevator ceiling "Hey Jarvis?"

_//Yes, Master Pe-//_

"Jarvis, I told you. You can just call me Peter, remember? Nothing fancy, just me." He laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the elevator wall. He cleared his throat, almost intentionally in the way it sounded.

_//Please excuse me then, Peter. What is it that you require?//_

"Is there anyone in level 4 right now? Like anywhere on that level, even leaving. Or in the stairways going there. Or sleeping?" level 8. almost there.

_//Not at the moment. The team is currently residing on the gymnasium floor, where Master Barton is attempting to teach Dr Banner to spar. Would you like me to inform them that you need assistance?//_ The calm voice echoed off the elevator walls as the door lit up and rung. Level 4

" _No!_ No, uh...I mean, no thank you." He sheepishly brought his eyes to the floor and stuck his hands into his pockets. Stepping out into the lab, lights flickering as they powered on, he froze. "One last thing Jarvis, um, sorry about this... but I need to test something out."

_//What do-?//_

"Auntie M." He said, almost hesitant and shut his eyes thinking the worst was about to go down if it didn't work. Silence. Opening one eye, Peter glanced up at the ceiling again. He held his breath, thinking now or never . "Hey Jarvis, did I say anything earlier?"

_//Not until now, Peter. Why do you ask?//_

Peter sighed in relief, trying to hide his growing smile the best he could. Elevator doors slid closed, and he strode through with his head held wide. Running a hand though his brown hair, the other did a small pump through the air, overjoyed about his accomplishment. "Nothing, that's great Jarvis. Thanks."

_//My pleasure, sir.//_

He'd been working on a way to be able to make sure any of his "plans" were kept secret for about a month now. He managed to make a not-so-suspicious little box that he could attach to any recording device and signal it to stop and erase a small amount of memory. Voice-activated, he spent most of his time trying to find a way to make sure that it wouldn't something stupid like "Start" or "Hey" to turn it on, but him clearing his throat instead was perfect. It would mark the starting point of each erasing and would stay the starting point until he laughed. He got a text from Clint with a photo of a very drunk looking Thor with the words _'Hammer time'_ and he laughed while making the thing. And sure enough the dumb system recorded it and it got stuck. He was able to finally install his device on Saturday when Tony decided to take the everyone on a beach trip, while Peter went to " _visit_ a few friends for the weekend". Luckily no one's mentioned it so far, so he took it as a good sign. 'Course when they do mention it he'll probably be benched for the rest of his _life_ , but hey appreciate the little victories, right?

Stepping thought the wide doors he took in his amazing surroundings. The lab was a wide, open space filled with nothing but awesome. Every science enthusiasts dream. Rows of equipment he'd only dreamed about even seeing lined the polished floors. Perfect for enhancing and modifying all equipment and chemicals. Everything was chrome, but that Tony's idea of keeping things "Science-y and futuristic" along with "C'mon Brucie, it's like an old fashioned sci-fi film but with a magic touch." The magic touch being color changing lights surrounding each project that light up when you walk past. It was so. Damn. _AWESOME_. But _technically_ Peter wasn't allowed back in here after the "incident" he had with Tony's newest armor. It was a new project, shiny and looked like something out of a action movie.

In other words, it was _sick._

_I just wanted to test it out, I mean c'mon how was I supposed to know there was a jet mode that fast?_   He thought, remembering being in the suit one second and through the floor of the room 3 floors up in the next. From the lab all you could see was a hole with an iron suit from the neck down hanging from the ceiling on level 6. Clint took it the best though, while everyone else was stressing over how to get him out from the ceiling, Clint was going _hysterical_ , laughing in the background after coming down from floor 7 saying he saw a head burst out of the living room floor with the words "Oh _Shit!_ I-I mean, Hi?". And that floor just happened to be Tony's, which also added to the punishment of getting his web shooters taken away. Clint got no heat from Tony for being in his room though, which kinda sucked.

So now here he was, sneaking into the lab _again_ so he could get his web shooters back. "You know, in my opinion, Clint should've gotten his bow taken away _too_ , only fair." Peter muttered to himself, unlocking the glass door to the room his stuff was in. "Could also make my own again... but these almost have my shock web installed already. And it took forever to get that in there! My fingers went _numb_ for a week!" He rambled on to himself, calmly waiting for the door to completely unlock as the code went through the mainframe. The doors opened and he walked forward, finally glad to have his shooters in his-

He froze, one foot lowered and about an inch off the ground, ready to land on the floor. _Hang on. Tony's probably got the floor booby trapped._ He did that when he took Steve's boots and hid them so Steve had to run into the fight in flower pattern boots Tony gave him. Sighing, he placed both hands onto the top of the steel door frame and heaved himself off the floor and onto the ceiling with a small grunt. Walking upside down he simply reached up and picked up the shooters, griping them tightly.

_//Peter, I believe you had been prohibited from using your equipment until further notice.//_ The British voice resonated throughout the room, scaring Peter.

" _Jesus,_ J. You almost gave me a heart attack." Peter fumbled the web shooters, which was obviously difficult from where he was standing. You try holding onto something that starts falling _up_ when you let go. "Besides, I just want to borrow it to make a few more adjustments." He replied, quickly twisting down and heading for the elevator doors. They shut in front of him, red light indicated they were powered down. Peter looked up, bewildered. " _Jarvis..._?"


	2. No one saw that

_"Jarvis?"_ Peter looked up, slightly nervous. He'd forgotten how in control Jarvis was of everything in the building when it came down to it..

_//Your heart rate is accelerated as well as slightly altered chemical levels, signifying you are not telling the whole truth. If you wish to make adjustments, you would be more than welcome to complete them in the lab area. Once you have finished, it is recommended you leave them in the designated area.//_ A small glass compartment popped up on a table near him, small light turning green as it unlocked.

Peter raised up his arms in defeat, web shooters in each hand, as he headed for the table. "Okay! Okay, I'll just fix things _here_ then... You know Jarvis, you're actually a little scary sometimes. You're not gonna go all skynet on us are you?" Peter grinned, sliding into one of the metal chairs as the elevator door rang, ready to be used again. He put down the web shooters, surveying them carefully before getting them open with the tools hidden within a drawer at the table.

_//Preferably not, Peter.//_

It sounded like if he had a face, he'd be smiling. _God,_ sometimes Peter forgot he wasn't talking to a real person. He had to hand it to Tony, Jarvis was crazy awesome. A few minutes later, Peter finally installed the shock webs so he could properly shoot them now. "Is it alright with you if I just test them out really quickly? Like just a second and then I'll put them back I swear!" Peter called out excitedly, tightening the shooters onto his wrists. They clicked in place and powered on within seconds. "Scout's honor!" Peter held up a poor excuse of a salute, and a web immediately shot out and hit a keypad to a locked door across the room. The shock web activated long enough to cause the sparks to fly and powered the metal door down with a loud ringing noise. His mind was racing. _I forgot to adjust the sensitivity._ _How did I forget the sensitivity?!_  Peter panicked, hands immediately attaching themselves to his hair as he walked towards it, eyes wide. " _Shit!_ Ah-I-I mean _Sorry!_ Sorry! Damn, did I break it? Oh man, I broke it didn't I? Ooohh , Tony's gonna _freak_!"

"Maybe it's _not_ broken. Maybe-" He looked it over, shaking his head as it sputtered and died again when he pressed a button. He was _so_ screwed. "Maybe I could fix it? I mean I could fix this thing, right? Nothing too bad?" He ripped the web string off, luckily still out of juice so it didn't shock him. The door clicked, locking mechanism no longer keeping the door secured until power was restored. The lights were dimmed as the back up began turning on. "Jarvis what's in this room anyway? Did I mess up again?"

_//I'm afraid this room contains confidential material brought in by SHIELD Director Nicholas Fury. All access to information on this matter is denied.//_

_Shit. Fury problem now._

_We'll, I'm already screwed...a little peek wouldn't hurt right?_ He thought as he tugged on the door handle, surprised at how heavy the door was. He'd heard Tony talking about getting some titanium containment rooms, but why in the _lab?_  

_//Peter. Do not-//_

"Sorry Jarvis, Auntie M."

Silence. "It won't last long, so better make this quick." Peter grunted, as the heavy door was completely pulled aside, stepping into the dim room. It was mostly empty, except for a table with...

With a...

Umm...

"What the hell _is_ this thing?" Peter leaned over the table to pick up a small jar. A little rock kept in a jar, snug in a small compartment on the wall. All this for a _rock?_ The room was void of anything except a small table propped up against the wall and chair. He jumped when the room lit up suddenly. At first he'd thought he'd been caught, but then breathed out in relief as he realized it was just the power coming back on, the door quietly shutting itself behind him. He turned back to the jar, seeing as how it was the only thing _off_ about this entire room.

It looked like some kind of obsidian type of crystal, at the bottom of a the jar. Honestly, it looked more like a black licorice inspired rock candy. The glass was dented several times _inside_ the jar, but none had actually been enough to chip through.  _Bullet proof glass? Why the hell would they even need this?_ Peter thought to himself, gently rotating the jar. The thing was, it wasn't even a big jar, he could pick with his index finger and thumb. Just a small black lump against the cold glass. He rattled the jar lightly, hearing the rock _tink_ against the glass. _L_ _ooks like that one time Thor burned Tony's chicken nuggets. With Tony whining about a waste of poultry. Clint whispering 'Fowl Play'._ Peter grinned, remembering how Tony started throwing the nuggets at Clint.

Then the crystal _shook_ and Peter immediately froze. He dropped it onto the table in shock, cautiously backing up against the door. The jar started rolling back and forth more violently, like if it was in its own earthquake. Then his spider-sense was going off so strongly it was starting to hurt him. _Yeah, no._ _S_ _crew this, I'm getting out of here._ Dread dripped over Peter as the bottle shook itself off the table. He swore he saw the crystal start morphing into a type of liquid as it hit the ground. His vision blurred as another wave of spidersense nearly brought him to the floor. Using the motion of dropping to get himself to the door, so looked back and saw the  _thing_ start growing. It was expanding in the glass and he felt his breath catch when he noticed the first crack in the glass.

Adrenaline filled him and his mind went blank, only thought was to leave. Like _now._ Peter yanked the door open and ran out, slamming the door shut behind him. _"Jarvis?"_ He nervously called out, as he heard something shatter inside the steel room. He hoped he'd only imagined feeling something slam against the door. "Jarvis, I think it be a good idea to get someone down here now!" Peter shouted, as the pounding grew louder. _Not responding, I think he's still under the wipe system, shit!_  He looked around frantically, looking for something to barricade the door until it locked again. Another hit almost made him lose his footing and then the noise stopped. The silence was deafening compared to how loudly he could hear his own heartbeat. It was finally quiet, but Peter's hairs were starting to stand on end. _What...what the hell-_

The door blew open behind him, glass and fragile equipment around him shattered as a high pitched ringing noise filled the room. He was launched by the blast and slammed down onto the ground, debris smashing past him and cutting him as he quickly scrambled behind one of the desks . Sparks went flying, igniting fires that were littered across the room. Peter screamed, curling in on himself in a fetal position and covered his ears as the shrill ringing sent waves of pain through him. It was like he was in a war movie and he was shell shocked, all he could hear was a piercing metallic ring replace all sounds. Then it stopped. It was extremely quiet again, besides the small fires dying as the sprinklers went off. He started coughing unable to hear himself over the sirens and lifted himself off the floor, finally noticing the smoke rising in the room and alarms blaring around him.  _Shit._

_Shitshitshitshitshit_

_They all heard that, They're gonna come in here._

_"Crap!"_ Peter shut his eyes, dropping his head back onto the floor in disbelief. Heaving himself to his feet with a groan,  he raced to pick up any evidence he was here and started running for the back stairwell. "JARVIS! Auntie M!  _Auntie M!"_ Desperately hoping he'd be heard over the sirens, Peter shoved the stair doors open and shot his web to the stairs three floors up, hurling himself up as he kicked the door shut behind him. Heart pounding and his stomach queasy, he stared down to the lab doors, smoke coming out from underneath.  _Get to my floor, get to my room, get out. Get out!_ He flung himself up again, ignoring the growing pain in his back.  _Just from the door, nothing big...besides the fact that they're all gonna kill me._

He shook his head, and made his way back up the winding staircase, as the rest of the team burst into the lab seconds later.


	3. Who me? Couldn't be

"What was in that room, Tony?" Steve rose from his crouched position, surrounded by the broken glass and metal. Sirens in the building powered down as Bruce put in the code on the holographic system near the door. "It looks like a warzone in here."

Tony bit his lips as he paced around the room, arms crossed. "Y'know, that's the _thing_ Steve. Confidential doesn't really mean I'm allowed to know about it." He glanced back at Natasha, speaking Russian furiously into her phone. Turning back to look at his friend, he fully expected the raised eyebrow that glared back at him. "Okay, _Okay_. I'm not  _allowed,_ per say, but since confidential typically means learning all the secrets that make it fun, that didn't really do much to stop me." He waved Steve over to one of the still standing tables, quickly running a hand underneath the edge until a small click was heard. "Which  _also_ means that I can do  _this,-"_ A small hologram appeared on the table, looking like a magnified version of a molecule. "-but they don't really need to know." _  
_

Bruce came from behind, silently watching along with Steve, as another hologram appeared in the shape of a ball. "Is that...?" The marble shape morphed, twisting and growing as it began covering the molecule, shadowing it until it completely coated it. Tony paused the transformation, turning it so it spun like a table top. "Project SYM. Apparently they found this thing a while ago off some island near Asia. A little bit of drama, some threats, an exchange for some of our gear, and this thing gets a private jet and a reservation at SHIELD industries." 

Bruce stepped forward, examining the figure thoroughly as he made the image expand. "So what was it doing here? Wasn't it supposed to be going to S.H.I.E.L.D. like planned?" Bruce rotated the figure again, slowly so he could study it. The coating was even, and seemed to replace the outer layer of the molecule seamlessly, almost like it had replaced the first molecule. Tony shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "See  _that's_ the weird thing-"

"Found him." Clint stepped through the elevator, tugging along a soaked Peter. His shirt was damp from where his hair was dripping water onto it, dressed in sweats but barefoot. Everyone else glanced over at them, but continued their conversation warily. Hanging up her phone, Natasha walked up, looking confused and staring Peter down. Pushing a small code on the wall's keypad, she picked up the small towel that came down the wall compartment. "You hose him down on your way here?" Natasha gave Clint an accusing look as she began drying Peter's hair. A laugh was heard from underneath the towel. "He was running down the hall when I found him. Wasn't really that hard to follow the puddles, though." Clint slapped his wet back, getting a loud _plop_ in return.

Peter poked his head out from the towel, smiling to thank Natasha when she walked away to answer her ringing phone. "I'm sorry, remind me to use the hair drier next time red alert happens _during_ my shower." Peter sassed, earning rolled eyes and a smile as Clint joined the others. He was really glad they couldn't tell how hard his heart was beating in his ears, but they probably would've thought it was from running to find them. It's not like anyone would tell the cold sweat apart from the water dripping off him. Of course, he had a great poker face which was helping. He beat Tony in every card game so far, and  _no I am not gonna let them know. Oh shit Oh shit. They looked pissed, but it's not too bad right? Right? Jesus, this is giving me a headache..._

"H-Hey, What happened? Looks like a cyclone hit in here!"

_Oh. Oh, nice one genius. Who the hell says cyclones?!_

"Just a bit of a situation, but its small." Natasha stuck her phone back into her pocket, sighing in annoyance when faint vibrating was heard and it lit up again. "Clint, you mind taking him back? We just needed to make a head count." Natasha nudged Clint and Peter back to the hallway door, turning to hear the whispers from the others. Clint nodded, sidestepping to Peter's side. She gave Clint a look before taking out her phone and pacing again, this time speaking in a fluid french.

_Okay, so far so good. Jesus I don't look wrecked, do I? Jumping in the shower and dumping hot water over me seemed to help my alibi I guess..._

"Yo, Bugs."

Peter's eyes left the group huddled by the far table and landed on Clint's much too eager face. Realization hit and his faced went red, and he slapped himself with a groan. " _So_ not my name, Clint." The archer wrapped a hand over Peter's shoulder, leading him once again to the far end of the hallway. "Maybe." Clint smiled. " _But,_  you did respond so..."

"No." Peter sighed.

"Arachnikid?"

" _Stop."_

" _The Eight Legged Wonder?"_

"Jesus! Enough! You know you don't wanna start this _, Big Bird."_

"Nah, I can't hear you Bugs." Clint walked into the elevator, hand raised with his hearing aid twirling on one of his fingers for dramatic effect.

"That's not fair! Besides I know you can read my _lips!"_ Peter ran after him, slamming into the closed elevator doors and muffled laughter coming from behind them. The soft beeps as the elevator went down mirrored Peter's breathing.  _So I passed? We're in the clear?_ A sigh of relief passed through his lips as he walked over to the next elevator. Stepping inside he watched the ruins of the lab until the doors shut and his reflection stared back. He leaned back against the elevator wall as it moved up, thinking back to the destruction of the lab. He grimaced. _  
_

_Damn. Hadn't even realized how bad it looked before. But I mean they said it was just a small situation right? Just a messed up lab, nothing a bit of redecorating can't fix._

Stepping out of the elevator, he grimaced as a dull pain in the back of his head made itself know. He shrugged it off as a bad landing from the hit he took earlier, took off his damp clothing and replaced it for his suit. The red and blue spandex was always a comfort to him whenever things got bad. Opening the latch to one of the windows, which Tony made just so he wouldn't have to go to the roof of the tower and give Steve and Bruce a heart attack from seeing him just walk off  _again_ _,_ he let one off his legs dangle over the ledge as he pulled on his mask. "Be back in a while, J!" Peter called out, before letting himself limply fall out from window, quickly shooting and swinging towards the city. The fresh air hit as soon as he swung up, dark clouds in the distance giving warning of the oncoming storm.


	4. Just like flying, only you're soaked

There was always something special about swinging through the city on a rainy night. The cold air rushing past him with every drop and rise. Of course, there was _small_ chance of getting sick, but with his healing factor, it wouldn't really matter anyway. Peter shut his eyes under his mask as he latched his web onto a building, feeling himself twisting by reflex with the momentum. He had always thought the rain was amazing. He landed nimbly onto the roof of the old abandoned warehouse, sighing and watching the cloud float up from his mouth and into the sky. Looking down, he sat on the ledge, legs hanging off the side carelessly. Sure it was cold and the sky was dark and gloomy, but this was one of the best kinds of weather that he'd liked. Even as a kid. 

When he'd shut his eyes and focused on the sounds, he'd felt himself being pulled in a direction off to the east, near one of the almost always empty market place by the coffee shop, where he would take Gwen.

_Gwen._

He sat in silence, pulling his legs back and wrapping his arms around them in the cold. He'd always come here whenever he wasn't feeling well, or needed to clear his head. Mostly because this building was quiet and let him think or relax. But at the same time, silence was horrible. It made you think and remember because you had nothing else to focus on. Shaking his head, he gave one last look towards the direction of the comforting coffee shop. The one that always made the blueberry muffins she'd liked and asked him for each time she went to Manhattan with him. He didn't like this. Remembering her face, her smell, her  _feel._ It just added more hurt to him than he wanted. Every time he thought of her loving, smiling,  _laughing,_ the memory twisted itself to show her face full of tears right before the string in his hand snapped tight and went stiff from the fall. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he walked off the edge, falling a few feet before swinging up again.

The thing with rain, that special thing, was that it calmed him down. Of course he'd never admit how much he'd relish each time he'd spot dark clouds coming in. The others would either complain or continue with their activities but he loved knowing rain was coming. He shot a web, propelling himself through the air with a grace. He laughed, feeling the rain hit him as he moved. That's the coolest part _. It's like having your arm out of the car window when it’s raining but more intense. Like if your skin's going numb or falling asleep. Except it just water._ He thought to himself, glancing down every alley he saw in case something was happening. Water didn't affect his suit, spandex acting like plastic as the water would slide off.

  _Of course, you don't really feel the cold until you stop moving. But I guess life's like that too. You know you feel the needles hitting you but you ignore it and enjoy the moments that make you happy._

He stuck himself onto the side of a building. Laughing, he dropped off and began walking through the vacant street. "If I keep thinking like that, Tony's gonna call me the next Socrates." He stretched his arms, yawning as he looked around. "Quiet night." He sighed, rubbing his hands together to keep them from freezing up. He'd been too preoccupied to get a thicker suit, and was wearing his usual one. He twitched as a nerve abruptly pulsed in the back of his head. His spider sense was going off crazy as it caused him to look at a faint light in the distance, hearing a muffled scream echo in his ears. "Whoa. Never thought I'd get that much distance with my spider sense." He shook his head in disbelief, starting to sprint and launched himself into the air, swinging to go help. It had taken a minute to get to them but he'd already figured the scene.

The poor couple's car had apparently broken down, judging by the smoke coming from underneath the hood. A shady looking guy had grabbed on to one of the girls and wasn't looking like he was going to let go.  _Alright, a little bad..._

He spotted the rest of the gang slowly coming out from behind their hiding spots, about a dozen and not looking to friendly.

_Aaaand sketchy family reunion. Pretty bad._

Peter dropped down between the two groups, and unlatched the girl's arm from the guy's death grip in one clean motion. Keeping the two girls behind him, he tried to keep the man distracted enough to buy the couple some time. "Hey, you weren't _really_ thinking of doing something to them were you?" Peter motioned the girls to get in the car behind his back, keeping his front facing the other men. "You shouldn't be here, man." One of themspoke, maybe the leader since he was the one that seemed more stupid, clicking the switchblade out from his hands. Inside his mask Peter rolled his eyes. "Seriously what is _with_ people thinking I'm gonna go down with a paper cut?  _Please_ me that you're joking. C'mon." The man grinned and the group behind him took out their weapons, mostly bats, knives, pipes, and  _scissors?_

He didn't realize he was laughed until he caught the look of confusion on the leader's face. " _Seriously?_ Oh my god!" He couldn't help it. He started laughing, wrapping his arms around him.  "What are you gonna do? Give me a _haircut?_ " As much as this angered the men in front of him, it also served as a distraction. With his hands being hidden, he pointed his fingers, sure that the couple would see him count  _9-1-1._   _Not so much for me, but to make sure they can get a safe ride. Can't carry two people and still swing._  He rolled his shoulders as he calmed himself down. Hoping the girls got the message, he slightly lowered his head and raised his arms. "Alright, you can have me. But just a little off the top, okay?" As soon as the words left his mouth he shot the webs from both hands to the two farthest guys on each end of the row, heaving them forward and using that force to launch himself to the man in the middle.  _Just a little kick to the face to knock him down. Nothing too big. Ignore the blood-_

_-wait, BLOOD?_

Peter gawked at the man screaming on the floor, holding his bloodied face in his hands as he rolled in pain. Peter froze, his kicks had never actual been that strong before, like sure they'd _hurt_ but it wasn't like he'd do anything  _that_ hard. He always held back just enough to make his point, since he knew his powers gave him a little too much force sometimes. He shook it off as he leaned back from a metal pipe's swing. Looking for his next move, he realized he was surrounded by at least 9 guys. And every single one of them wanted him dead.  _Well, shit. Never actually fought this many before._ He slid under someone’s footing and two collided, earning a second to breathe. _Wasn't the most like, 6?  Crap._  The first two men he pulled were joining the others and Peter had barely managed to take one out with everyone else hitting all at once. Yet he wasn't out of breath or worried. 

In fact, he was having  _fun._ A part of him was enjoying this fight so much it almost threw him off. He wanted to make sure they would hurt. They were so  _weak._

He hadn't even realized one of the men had pulled out a pistol until he heard the shot. He felt the pain for a second, hitting the ground on his knee holding his arm, blood coming out of the small hole. But the wound wasn't even hurting anymore. It was  _healing right in front of him._  

Faster than his wounds had ever healed before.

He thought back to when he was shot for the first time, and unmasked and something else took over.  And it was like the same thing had just started. Adrenaline pumped through him as they started charging him. They never landed another hit. They tried smashing the bat against his back but him tensing was just enough to break it to pieces. His hands were shooting out faster than before, landing several hits with more strength than was necessary for him to take down two men. Within the next 10 seconds, every guy that had attempted to hit him was completely down for the count.

He stepped back, seeing the last of the men fall face first from a standing faint. His heart was thudding against his chest, and he let out a shuddered breath before kicking away the gun from the fallen criminal.  _When did I disarm him?_ He was shaky, both from  _Oh shit I just did that?_ and  _Oh_ ** _shit_** _I just did_ ** _that._** He jumped and whirled around tightly gripping the hand of one of the girls, who was about to touch him.  _How did I know that?_  

"I'm sorry! The police-they're coming like you told us to do!" The red head looked up at him wide eyed, her girlfriend standing tearfully behind her and nodding. "Y-you're hurting me..." She winced, lightly yanking back on her hand. Peter immediately let her hand drop from his grip. "I-I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to..." He looked down the road as the sound of sirens filled his ears.  _20 minutes away._ "Wait here."

He shot down as much webbing on each guy as he could, knowing that it would be enough to make sure the gang members wouldn't move until the police got here. Glancing back at the couple huddled back in the car again, part of him wanted to leave and hide and process what just happened but the other simply told him to wait for with the girls. So he compromised. He was going to watch them wait in their car, from the roof of the building across the street, and if anything happened he would come down again until the police arrived. They girls felt safe like that so while he was protecting them, he could try to figure out just what the hell happened. Soon as the girls got picked up, he was gonna race back to the tower.

Something was happening to him and he didn't know what it was.

It scared him.


	5. Need to know basis

Peter had walked the rest of the block down, the chill finally starting to get through his suit. He stepped in through the lobby doors, smiling through his mask as he waved to the wide-eyed receptionist who absentlmindedly waved back. He sighed as the elevator doors shut and pulled off his mask to ruffle his damp hair. his suit was torn again where he'd been shot, but he'd simply shot a bit of webbing to hold it down on his way back. Scenes were replaying in an endless loop in the back of his mind, elevator music fading out as the past fight took over his senses. The blood. The anger he felt. The joy and his heart jumping whenever he landed a punch into the dirty faces that _deserved_ it, _they deserved it. They all_

The elevator dinged.

He blinked as the familiar voices echoed down the hall. He opened the lounge area door, the warmth of the room wrapping around him and sending a late shiver down his back. He rubbed the wet fabric of his mask between his fingers, looking at the details before shaking his head and heading into the main room. They were each making their own noise, but the focus seemed to be on Steve and Clint yelling at each other as they flailed Wii remotes. Clint cheered as he finished in 1st place on mariokart that Tony bought yesterday, and Steve cheered mockingly back at Clint. Bruce called Steve over after Clint signed something that ended with bull and leaned over the couch to look at him, noticing Peter standing in the doorway. "Bugs, you up for some mariokart? I'll let you be Yoshi this time." Clint grinned, expertly twirling his controller in one hand.

"No way." Peter shook his head, smiling as he got a water bottle out of the fridge. It was cold, but he was too so it wasn't really much of an issue. "My plans are to pass out in my room for the next 10 hours. Too tired to beat you tonight." He waved off Clint's shrug and turned to face the one person he wouldn't be able to hide anything to if he tried. Like he was doing right now.

Natasha had already placed a hand on his forehead while the other touched his wet hair. "You okay?" She turned his head to look him over again, frowning at how cold he was. Peter smiled as she squished his face together, looking back into her green eyes. "I'm fine just got a bit of a headache from the cold." He waved to Tony, now back into the room to see the highly skilled assassin moving Peter's head in ways that would probably give him a stiff neck if she held for too long. Tony placed his hand on Peter's forehead now, reaching behind the counter of the bar to take out the first aid kit. "You need tylenol or something?"

"No, I'm _fine_." Peter gently took Natasha's hands away from his face, giving Tony a look as a band-aid was stuck on him. 

Music from the Wii interrupted as Clint started another game. "Probably his own fault for going out in the rain with that suit." He called back, not turning away from the race as he quickly made it to first place. "You didn't put on the thermal suit?" Steve looked up from Bruce's notes, raising an eyebrow.  _I just wanna sleep this off_ , Peter raised his hands, "It's fine-"

"Really? All this time complaining about the chill and my gift's still hanging in your closet? Collecting dust?" Tony crossed his arms, fake disbelief radiating off him. "I'm hurt."

Peter rubbed his eyes with his palms, desperately trying to end the conversation to sleep. He was already halfway to the door and was regretting even coming in here to see who was home. He'd never felt so exhausted. He just wanted to relax the rest of the night and maybe even the next day. "Oh my god, I just grabbed the first suit I saw-"

Bruce was getting up, ready to play along as his friends danced around Peter, avoiding the hands trying to swat them away and pulling Peter back into the room. He smiled a little, clasping both hands onto his cold shoulders as he spun him around. "You look a little pale, Peter. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Oh for the _love_ of- I am _fine!_ " Peter raised his voice, finally able to pull away from Bruce's arms and Steve's laughter. He was rapidly peeling off several flowery band-aids covering his face.  "Jesus, I'm scared you guys would break down my wall the second I got a paper cut." Steve and Tony shared a look, grinning back at him. "I mean, it wouldn't nearly cost as much as you think to repair that wall. Its a possibility."

Clint nodded, mutely tossing Peter a calculator from the couch.

Catching the calculator and hurling it back at Clint, he snapped. " _Good_ _night_!" Peter brushed them off as he escaped back into the hall, closing the door.

Natasha hopped over the couch next to Clint, taking the controller from him just in time to swerve out of the way of a green shell. "I could've done that..." Clint mumbled as she handed back the controller, grinning. One of the systems on the wall began making a shrill beep until Tony tapped something on his watch and it shut down. "That your nightly cue to build another solar panel, Stark?" Clint sat up to stretch his arms, hold on the Wii remote still going strong as he dodged another shell.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Very funny. I've set up a large amount of micro cameras around each room-" Tony froze for a second, feeling everyone's stare making him shrink back from the intensity. "Each  _non-personal_ room, and had Jarvis compile it all together to see what happened to the lab while we were in the gym, right buddy? Lemme see the works." Tony picked up a tablet and tapped the screen, causing the tv to switch from Clint's game, while he ignored the loud whine. The lab was shown, completely intact, almost like a still picture, if not for the time at the bottom of the screen letting everyone now it was actually a video.

// _Sir, I'm afraid we may have a bit of a problem concerning the records.//_

"What do you mean by problem?" Bruce stepped forward, arms crossed as he stood behind Tony. The screen glitched out for what seemed to be a fraction of a second and then everything was on fire as the team ran through the door ready to attack. The video looped again at the start of the recording before skipping ahead again. "This...this doesn't make any sense." Tony desperately re-winded the clip on his tablet. "What happened to- Where's...?" The screen flickered again, and resumed its playback of the present time, now showing the lab currently empty. Destroyed, but still empty. "Where's the rest of the footage?" Tony was busy on his tablet, rapidly sliding and tapping different sections of the program as several boxes of coding began filling the screen. He looked up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Jarvis, what happened to those 5 minutes between the video?"

_///That seems to be the issue, sir. I have no recollection of that footage. It no longer appears in my database or in any files I stored beforehand. My apologies.//_

"It's fine it not you, buddy." Tony's brow was furrowed as he paced, eyes never leaving the tablet screen. _It can't be him. I've programmed everything, fixed all bugs from the start..._  The tv was switched back to the wii game, mario kart music filling the silence left by everyone in the room. Natasha leaned back into the couch, deep in thought. Bruce walked up to Tony, glancing at the screen of the lab in ruins. "Jarvis never messes up like this, Tony. You know that." Tony sighed again, shutting off the screen and placing the tablet down onto a table. "Yeah, I know." He sat down, putting his chin in his hand and letting the other fall limply onto his lap. "His memory goes through several different codes and any changes in any recording history goes through me first before anything is cleared. You know how much dirt I have on Clint? He's the one taking Steve's towels from the pool. I wouldn't have that if it weren't for Jarvis being top notch at everything."

Steve's head snapped towards Clint. Clint sheepishly shrugged in return.

Bruce sighed. "Tony."

"Right. Okay." Tony nodded, realized he'd started rambling again. He tended to do that when he was nervous. An he had the right to be nervous right now. Something had infiltrated his home, his _friend._ It made him worry. " I just don't _understand_ , Bruce. We've had a security breach. But not from anyone we've dealt with before." If it was someone they'd fought, there'd be evidence. Some kind of marking of evil recording of someone bragging about how they managed to erase Tony Stark's data. It had to be someone else, someone new? "Someone's messing with my things." He stared ahead, mind running down a list of everything he knew about the situation and crossing off anything that wouldn't help him.

"But who?" Clint turned around, watching him from behind the couch, sharing a look with Natasha.

"I don't know." Tony waved a hand in the air, standing quickly to cross his arms in defeat. "I just... _don't."_ Bruce picked the tablet off the table quietly, letting his eyes run over the fragmented coding as Tony swiped at the screen. "I don't like it."

"No one likes it." Steve cut in, the three forming a circle of confusion. "Can you track it? Find out where the bug came from?" 

_//It may take some time. An exact estimate may be difficult due to possibilities of another halt in my recordings.//_

Tony jumped up and walked quickly to the elevator, already taking out his phone and tapping the screen. He frowned, frustration building as error messages began filling the screen. "Give me a few days. Whoever did this, is really gonna wish they hadn't." The elevator shut, and he clenched his fist quietly as his search began on the screen, rapidly causing the screen to fill with lines upon lines of script.

Someone messed with Jarvis.

_Jarvis, the one good thing he'd worked so hard to keep from getting into the wrong hands and safe where he could make sure nothing happened to him. Only to fail and have someone start taking him apart from the inside._

Someone's _definitely_ gonna pay for this. He would make sure of it.


	6. Nothing big, just a bug

The first thing he realized when he woke up? That he slept through breakfast. And he hadn't eaten dinner last night either. The second thing he noticed?

That he was gonna hurl into his pillow if he didn't run, right _now._

Despite having an nearly empty stomach, he was queasy and nauseous, and after a minute of the most horrible up-chucking he'd ever experienced in his life, it was over. Yet it nearly brought him to the floor as he knelt before the porcelain in front of him with a weak grip. 

_//Peter, are you alright? Do you require medical assistance?//_

Peter groaned, flushing  and stood up to wash out his mouth. His throat was burning, but at least the taste was almost gone. "No, no I'm fine, J. Just a bad dream messing up my stomach. I'm good. I'm good." He walked slowly out of the bathroom, immediately noticing a plate of food in the small compartment by his door, where Jarvis would bring him meals if he was too busy to head down.  _I didn't ask for any food. When did I get lunch?_ "Jarvis, did I, uh, ask you for breakfast a little earlier? I-I mean I don't wanna be rude if you brought it just cause but, I'm just wondering."

_//You had requested a meal at 8:13 this morning, Peter. I've kept it heated after you went back to bed.//_

_Great, now I sleepwalk. Add that to the many wonderful things already making me weird._ He sighed, picking up the plate and walking towards his counter. He'd just barely let it hit the wood when his spider sense went off and he tensed, crouching down slightly, ready to leap to the ceiling and grab his hidden web shooters. Someone lightly knocked at his bedroom door.

"Peter? It's Bruce."

Peter rose to his feet, confusion overlapping the adrenaline as he walked towards the door. If it's just Bruce then why did he feel his sense go off? He's not in danger. Of course the _first_ time he'd met Bruce his spider sense went off lightly whenever Bruce would be too quiet or something. But know he knew that Bruce was better at controlling his anger, and even then he and the Hulk were buddies. Hell, Hulk even nicknamed him _'_ _bugman'_  . They were practically best friends by Hulk accounts.

Bruce looked up when Peter finally opened the door, taking note of his unkempt hair and pajamas quietly. It looked like Peter had been sleeping, but it was still strange considering it was now 2 in the afternoon. He shook it off, thinking it had to do with his extreme metabolism messing with his sleep schedule. "You want some lunch? Thor's going to make us _his_ version of chili cheese fries and nachos." Bruce smiled, beckoning Peter out into the hall.

Peter inwardly grimaced as he let a fake smile spread, feeling his stomach act up again at the thought of food. "No thanks. Believe it or not, I'm not really a fan of nachos." It wasn't really a _lie._ He didn't necessarily _hate_ nachos, just didn't really eat them unless he had nothing else to eat. He was kind of a picky eater.  _That,_ and the idea of something oozing and slimy was  _so_  not helping him right now. He thought quickly back to the mini fridge by his desk, wanting something to try to ease his stomach.  _God, I'm so glad I snagged some of Tony's ginger ale._

"What _? Why?"_ Bruce hadn't moved, leaning against his door frame. Peter cleared his throat as his stomach bubbled. If Bruce didn't go soon, Peter was pretty sure he was gonna paint his shoes another color. His headache was starting up again, and it made him frustrated.  _Make him leave. Go away, Leave me alone!_

"Well, it's kind of a long story-" Peter shrugged, ready to make up another excuse to finally close the damn door and launch himself to the fridge.

"No, don't worry I know.  _Nacho_ business."

Peter stood blank, processing what he'd just heard. _Did he just-_

" _Really?_ _"_   Peter raised an eyebrow. He'd never figured  _Bruce_ would be the one to say something like. He was a little more of the quiet and serious type  _so far_.

Bruce shrugged sheepishly, small smile on his lips as he crossed his arms again. His ears were reddening as he cleared his throat. "Clint's been using that this whole time. Thought I'd give it a try."

Peter laughed, easing Bruce out of his awkward position. It was nice to see Bruce relax for once and at least try to joke around. He waved Bruce off, feeling his stomach start bubbling again. "I'm fine, really. Had something sent up here a while ago." Again,  not a total and complete lie. Apparently he'd  _had_ gotten food. Now if he was  _actually_ eating it, was a whole other story. But it was the thought that counted right?

"Alright, I'll save some for you then." Bruce nodded as he stepped back from the door.

He was  _free._

Peter waved at Bruce as he  made his way down the hallway and went down the elevator. Closing the door he shut his eyes and groaned, leaning back against it to rest for a few seconds. It was like if half his brain wanted him to sleep _right now_ , while the other half was basically in a sugar high. And he couldn't tell what side was winning. Saying he just felt 'dizzy' didn't really cut it. He sighed, once the vertigo had passed, and finally made his way towards the heaven that was his mini fridge and finished about half a bottle of ginger ale. Then the second wave of Spider-sense-gone-haywire hit, and then his main priority was to do his best not to break the mini fridge's door while he kept himself steady. Someone was at his door again. It took a few seconds for it to leave, and he managed a small 'hang on' while he took slow steps. Taking a deep breath, he plastered a simple smile on his face to keep up his act and swung the door open as nonchalantly as he could. "What's up?"

Natasha was waiting on the other side, still worrying him about the spider sense being wrong for the second time in a row. She had concern etched over her that would make a mother hen proud. "You okay?"

He made his best confused look and was glad she couldn't see the whites of his knuckles gripping onto the door from where she was standing. God, he was glad to ba able to stick to things. If not he's pretty sure he would have face planted right now. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

She looked him over again, green eyes analyzing every bit of detail that she could. She sighed and let her eyes fall closed as her eyebrows furrowed. "You shouldn't hide things, Peter." The red head had her look. The one she always used when interrogating someone. Determination radiating off of her so strongly Peter could feel it.

"I'm not hiding anything, I told Bruce I already ate. I'm  _fine._ " _  
_

"You're lying." Her monotone voice cut him off. She looked completely done. With a look on her face that basically was a mix of worry, curiosity and distrust.  _She doesn't trust us now, great. Perfect._

Peter lowered his head and smiled, "Okay, you got me." He opened the door a little wider and motioned over to where she could see the plate of food waiting on the counter top. The steam coming from the vegetables were a nice touch to his little lie, he'd admit. "I hadn't started eating it yet, but I'll get to it when I'm done readjusting the things on my new webbing." He closed the door again slightly, mainly because he had started to slowly lose his balance and tried to play it off by leaning his shoulder against the door frame. "I'm _okay_ , besides I think Bruce wanted to tell you something." He smiled.

"About?" Natasha was taken back, letting her mind wander.

He shrugged, hoping Bruce's joke would lighten her mood. "He just said to ask him why he doesn't like nachos. It's pretty good." He never did like lying to her, or anyone really. But until he was sure about what was going on he'd just let it pass and feign ignorance for now. He'd started closing the door, stopping when he felt her hand on his shoulder. 

"Peter."

He looked back at her wide eyes. They seemed... concerned. Like Aunt May's. "We're just here to help."

"I know, I know." He responded playfully, lifting her hand away and shut his door. His head hurt again from the memories, as he remembered the constant stream of lies Aunt May would have to suffer. But he shoved it down with the others. He lowered himself and sat down in front of his door, curling up as he felt his stomach rumble again. He thought back to the lab. About the damage. "I know..."

* * *

 

He snuck out later that night again, feeling restless and unable to keep his mind from wandering long enough to be able to fall asleep. Taking the plate of food and putting it into a plastic container, he placed it in a paper bag, got out his old backpack and leapt out of the window. His thermal spider suit under his clothes was actually a lot better at keeping out the cold, so he made a mental reminder to actually thank Tony for making it later on. A block from central park, he dropped down into an alley and quickly took off his mask when he deemed it clear. He made his way down a path that lead to an apartment complex's parking lot, long abandoned and near empty. One of the lights was flickering from age, but it was still lighting up most of the area. "Major? Hey Major, you here?" Peter looked around the blue van parked in the corner of the lot, knocking lightly on the side. 

A minute later, the side door slid open. An older man leaned against the car door, wearing a heavy military jacket and tattered jeans, candle behind him making shadows bounce off the interior. "Isn't it a little late to be sneaking around dark parking lots, Rookie?" The man raised an eyebrow as he coughed into a closed fist.

Peter smiled and shrugged off his backpack, lifting up the bag with the plate of food. "Just thought I'd drop something off."

The man scoffed, retreating back into the van. "I don't need to be fed, rook. I'm a hardworking man." Major waved him off as Peter handed him the bag and sat on the edge of the car floor from the opening on the side. "I know, just thought you'd enjoy it. It was on the house."

 "Your house or mine?" Major let out a laugh, sitting down in front of him and leaning back against the van wall, moving a few wooden ornaments to make more room. Splitting the warm food between two paper plates he had in a drawer, he handed one back to Peter. "Here."

Peter eyed the steaming food warily, finally deciding his stomach still wasn't ready to handle anything solid yet. "No I'm fine, trust me." He sat down on a chair by wood carving tools, picking up a small sculpture of an angel. It was praying. "How's the business?" His eyes landed on the wooden bear propped up against the driver's seat. Major shrugged, finished with the first plate and starting on the one Peter had denied. "Ehh, these people are a little cheap when it comes to getting quality wood works, but I've been managing. The tourists are usually the most popular buyers." Major sighed, smiling as he drank from a water bottle he'd stored away earlier. He nodded towards Peter's backpack, placed against the van's side. "How's keeping the city safe from the evils?"

Peter shrugged, letting his leg dangle off the ground. "It's got its ups and downs, honestly. But it helps to know you're helping someone." Major nodded in agreement, calmly eating the rest of the food.

By all accounts, no one would have ever thought Peter would find leave the tower to find an old friend in a shady looking van in a deserted parking lot this late at night. Not with any _good_ reason anyway. But this city's always had a funny way of making things work. Peter leaned back and looked around the lit van's interior, decorated heavily in several sized wood sculptures and tools. He picked up the a small version of the statue of liberty, remembering the first time he saw it. It wasn't really the _best_ situation, but it was handled.

Kinda.

* * *

 

Peter swung rapidly, narrowly missing another thrown pipe, and landed a shot of webbing back into Doc Ock's face. Wrapping up the rest of his arms together, he was in mid swing when Doc finally started to fall and he heard sirens approaching from the distance. The fight would be over soon. His spider sense went off and he barely dodged Doc's final attack, launching a separate compartment off his chest ready to stun him with disk charged with electricity. Then he saw the old man hiding around the corner, right in the weapon's path.

He wouldn't have the reflexes to get out of the way in time.

But Peter _would._

He desperately hoped he wouldn't be too late again, already in the air as he launched himself off his webbing like a slingshot. "Look out!" He leaped in front of the old man, feeling something sharp hit his back and then _everything_ was stinging. Cold heat was pulsing through him, making him feel like he was vibrating violently and he lost consciousness before he'd even hit the ground.

He woke up sore. Every bit of muscle in his body was aching and he felt it before he'd even opened his eyes. From what he could feel, he was lying on his stomach and had some type of thick blanket over him. Maybe he was just dreaming after a bad night again? Mustering up enough energy, he pried his eyelids open and stared ahead as his eyes immediately locked on to the carved wooden bear in front of him.

_What._

"Stay down, son."

He'd flinched when he heard the voice, head still fogged to be able to fight again. Pulling his arms up under his shoulders, he pushed against the hard ground and started raising himself off the ground with a small groan. He tried to sit up slowly, but struggled to get himself completely off the floor, needing one arm to keep him balanced. Gingerly placing a hand on his back, he felt where he remembered he was hit. the suit was burnt off in a patch. The skin peeking through was sensitive to touch, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He saw the other person move, silhouetted in the few lights in...the car? Was in a car? His head was still hurting . "Who..."

"Major, ready for duty."   _Major? Like army kinda major?_  He squinted, and looked up.It was the old man from before, the one he saved from Doc Ock's last attack. He tried getting up again, this time a little more slowly so it wouldn't hurt as much but still only managed to sit back onto his knees. A firm hand held him steady. "Keep still, rook."

"How long was I out?"  Peter rubbed his eyes. Wait...

The man stood and headed for the van's side. "'Bout less than an hour or so. You recovered rather quickly, son." The old's mans military jacket was faded, but still looked thick enough to keep him warm as he opened the side door to peek out.

"Shit." His _eyes. His mask...his mask!_

He felt his heart start leaping into his throat as he felt all comfort and hope leave his soul. "You...You took off my mask?" Peter looked around frantically, no longer caring how much his back hurt. _Where is it, oh god. Oh SHIIIIT, who saw me?_ He couldn't breathe, this wasn't supposed to happen, and oh _shit I_   _FU_ _CKED up_. 

He froze when he saw the man hold up his mask like a beacon of safety. Snatched it out of his hands and quickly put it on, feeling his heart thudding loudly against his temple. With his mask on, he was safe. He was _safe._ "Didn't know if you were unconscious or just givin' me the silent treatment. You won't have to worry about me spreading the word, though." He looked up to see the man with guilty heavy on his face, sitting down on a chair by a box covered in carving tools. He started whittling down a plank of wood, letting himself relax against the car. "I know what its like to have a few secrets."

 _Maybe I can trust this guy. I mean, he did hide me from the cops._ Peter felt his shoulders drop in relief, knowing how much worse it could have gotten if the NYPD had gotten a hold of him instead. _The tests and interrogations, or the experiments._   He shuddered at the thought. That was close. _Waay_ too close for comfort. "Thanks...uh..." He knew the mans name had slipped his mind, but was reasonable considering his earlier panic about a stranger suddenly knowing his biggest secret. 

"Major. Just call me Major, alright rookie? And watch the language, don't you have a bunch of kids lookin' up to you?"" Major handed him the coffee he was heating up on  camping stove. He must have been talking out loud again. He tended to do that when he was nervous.

Peter nodded quietly, Steve had told him the same thing a while ago. The heat in his hands from the coffee was comforting. Things were silent again, and he looked around awkwardly. His eyes were fixed on a miniature Statue of Liberty figure. The details were amazing. "You make these?" He turned it over, amazed at how smooth the working was. Major smiled, taking it from Peter's hands and rolling it between his fingers. "Sell 'em too, if you wanna help a veteran make a living. That coffee's not cheap, you know." Major motioned to the cup. 

Peter looked down, eyes widening behind his mask. _"Oh!_ Uh, m-my bad, I didn't mean to-" He shot the cup forward, almost spilling it onto the van's floor. "I'm joking, son." Major let out a small laugh and he picked up what looked like the start of a half finished bird. The wing was very detailed but coming out of a solid chunk of wood, vaguely shaped like a bird, anyway.

Peter turned his chest, beginning to stretch and pleased to find that the pain was starting to disappear. He'd lifted his mask over his mouth to drink some of the warm coffee. It was a simple cup. It wasn't all that bad, he was just never really one for coffee unless it was sweet. Gwen liked the sweet flavors and would always share, after finding out he'd never really drank coffee before. The flavors were always new, but still good. It was good.

"I'm surprised you don't have a lot of questions to ask an old soldier."

Peter looked up, brought back to the present. The present where he was sharing coffee with a random stranger in a van located somewhere in New York. But his spider sense was quiet, so he didn't think he was in danger. Not anymore anyway. Peter was calmer now, feeling himself relax into the blanket under him. "Yeah... I technically got a war veteran back at home. He says you learn not to bring up the past too much, sometimes its not worth knowing." He wasn't  _wrong,_ of course the way he put it, Major probably thought Cap was an old man who liked to reminisce on the good ol' days. _Technically_ it was true, just not in the same sense of the person in front of him now. That and Steve was getting really well adjusted with all the new tech coming out now.

"Smart man." Major,now sanding down the wooden bird's wing. Peter stayed for a few more minutes, getting to know Major a little more before he heard Tony calling him through comms worrying where he went after the news reported him fighting and disappearing. Apparently Major had lived with his son but then his son, Micheal, had been taken away from him. _"With the ex wife, out into the world while I got left behind."_ as he put it. So until his son would come back, which apparently he'd promised to do after finishing school, Major moved into his old van and started making money from his old hobby to fund the letters he'd write for Michael. No matter how much Peter haggled, the man didn't want any help. 

 _But_ , he never said anything about being polite, so Peter would always bring Major some stuff like food and clothes whenever he could. Major kept his word, never telling anyone that he knew Spiderman was Peter. They were good friends, a friend Peter needed whenever something happened. He knew what had happened with Gwen, or the time Peter accidentally smashed through a post office and freaked out most of the employees. He would never ask questions, not unless Peter wanted to answer them and he was thankful for that.

But he wouldn't know about what was happening to him now. 

So Peter ignored the headache while Major told him old war stories, and put on a brave face when his back screamed at him as he waved goodbye. He would be okay. He's okay.


	7. Trouble never sleeps

"Peter?" Gwen cried out, voice almost a whisper up as she clutched onto the web for dear life. When he looked down, he saw her swaying, nothing but air underneath her as his web got caught in the clockwork. She screamed as the gear turning made his grip loosen, making her fall another few inches. The web was going to be cut completely when the clock tower's gear made a full turn. God, she was scared. She was  _so_ scared, but she'd be okay.

_She had to be okay._

The gear almost turned again, and he jammed his foot into its place, determined to stop it. He grunted as the metal pushed against his leg. He didn't care if it meant his foot breaking, he would _not_ let this happen to her _._ He pushed back against the gear with all the strength he could muster, his grip on the web tightening in vain. This wouldn't be happening.  _God, this can't be happening._ He struggled to push against the gear, hearing the metal around the tower groan in protest. His heartbeat was going along with the ticking, he couldn't stop the _ticking._ The gear threatened to turn again and he shoved his foot up with more force.

And the gear broke.

Metal was raining down around the tower as gears were shooting out from their places, glass shattering and railings coming apart. The platform he was on was the only solid ground other than the one at the bottom of the tower. Gwen was falling. She was falling, and he jumped after her, time slowing down as they made eye contact. He saw the tears in her eyes after he shot out the webbing, watching as the strand moved through the chaos to latch onto her.  _She's gonna be okay. I'm not too late, she'll be fine._ He saw a firm pipe sticking out on the right, his last hope at saving her and he slammed into it seconds later. The web went taut from the sudden stop, and suddenly they were both frozen in place. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, watching as she swung silently underneath him. He attached the web onto the pipe before letting go, feeling the wind rush past him as the ground came at him with great speed.

He never felt the landing, focused only on her. She didn't move. "Hey...Gwen?" His voice caught in his throat from the lack of response. He felt ice seeping into him as she swung ever so slightly. "Hey...hey, hey-You're okay, you're okay..." He gently brought her into his arms as he cut the web, feeling her fall limp in his arms as he sat on the ground. She was silent. "Please...Stay with me, _please?"_  His voice trembled, mirroring his shaky hand as it ran over her head, pleading for her to open her eyes again.  _To look at him again._ But she didn't. She didn't look, smile, laugh...

She didn't _breathe._

"No, no no no no." Her head rolled against his shoulder as he pulled her up to his chest again. Her hair masked her face, gently veiling her as he cried over her. "G-Gwen, stay with me. Stay with-" His sob cut him off, hope draining out from him as he felt her get colder against him. _Stiff._  His tears began dropping onto her neck, sliding down the necklace he'd given her as a surprise. She had smiled, smiled so sweetly when he'd put it on her, saying she'd never take it off for as long as she lived. And now she... This wasn't supposed to happen.  _This couldn't be happening!_

She had to be safe...He _had_ to keep her _safe. I'd promised. I just... wasn't fast enough..._

"You did this." His grip tightened on Gwen, ready to still defend her as he looked over his shoulder. "We  _both_ did this." He looked up, hearing the voice warble as if he were underwater. It echoed around the tower, bouncing off every wall. It was only then when he'd noticed that clock tower was frozen in time, several gears were floating mid air as if held up by an invisible force. He looked back down and Gwen was no longer in his arms. _"_ _Gwen!"_   He panicked, grasping the webbing that once held her as he got to his feet, looking around frantically. Something rushed behind him, and he felt a searing pain race up to his head from his spine and he fell to his knees. He couldn't breathe.

"Don't lie. Wasn't that a _rush?"_ It whispered into his ear. Scared but angry, he turned to face the voice, feeling another wave of heat snap inside him again. He stopped, paralyzed as he stared into a pair of blue eyes. Her face was distorted, and she twitched with every second as she stepped towards him. She put a hand on his chest, black dripping from her arm as it spread inside him.

 _"Didn't you enjoy it?"_   Gwen grinned, and his vision went dark.

* * *

 

He shot up. Heart pounding in his chest, he gripped his throat and tore the blankets off of him, feeling the heat suffocating him. He was covered in a cold sweat and shivered from the sudden change but he needed air, he couldn't breathe. Not bothering to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he raced to the window and yanked it open, letting the sounds of the city fill the silence and bring him back to reality as the memories of the dream faded. His shaky breaths made his throat burn from the freezing night air, but it would make him wake up and help him forget again. He wiped away the fresh tears that marked his face with trembling hands and gripped the window frame tightly as he listened to the noise outside. It took him several minutes to finally calm down again, forcing himself to open his eyes and make himself believe that he wouldn't see... _her_ face again. He watched the lights below, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline wore off. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he cleared his throat and turned back into his room, but his eyes widened.

There were webs.  _Everywhere._

_Christ, it looked like a suburb couple wanted to win best decorations on Halloween contest._

"What...the hell." Peter breathed out, slowly walking around his room in awe, seeing how much webbing was coming from the farthest corner of his room. He found his web shooter still dangling from a strand latched onto the ceiling. Snatching it off the small web, he clicked the trigger.

Clicked again.

"Empty?" He whispered. Had he used this in his sleep? Did his _nightmare_ cause this? Like sure this one _was...different_ from the others, but they happened enough that he knew it would be bad, so why would this one cause a reaction like this? He shook his head, remembering how Gwe...The _other thing_  wanted to make him believe he  _enjoyed_ that night.

Watching the fear in her eyes as she fell and hearing her body snap as the string went taut because-

He shut his eyes. Cleaning up the webbing around the room, he fought to stop himself from thinking about the face he saw. Something you don't want to remember is always the hardest to forget, especially when it was the only thing you could think of. He focused on each movement he'd made, making sure his mind was with him now and not with his dream. When he cleaned up what seemed to be the last strand of webbing, he tossed the ball of web into the garbage shoot, hearing it fall before he shut the chamber door. Looking into his dark room, he figured it wouldn't be a good idea to head back to bed considering...yeah. So he decided to head for the lounge and pass some time instead.

The elevator beeped as he stood in the light in silence. As much as he tried, he couldn't stop the fragments of the dreams from popping in and out of his thoughts. Out of all the dreams he's had so far, this one had to be the worst. He couldn't stay in that room, not yet. The doors slid open and the faint sound of the television could be heard, confusing him. He hadn't expected anyone else to up, if he was to be completely honest. But he wouldn't mind the company if it meant it would distract him for at least a little while. Walking over the white floor, he hadn't realized he was barefoot until his foot hit the cold wooden floor. It was only fair, since he basically ran out of bed.He was making sure his movements were quiet as he headed for the leather couches. When he'd spotted the blond head, he froze, for a second believing it to be Steve.

Thor was sitting on the leather couch working carefully with small tools on some kind of small machine. He did a small double take as Peter stopped behind him, putting the machine down onto the coffee table. "Trouble sleeping?" There was no immediate reply, and Thor watched him Peter silently sink onto the couch next to him. He kept watching him as Peter glanced over, seemingly finding the right thing to say. Now he was really concerned, since usually Peter just shrugged things off with a joke.

"A little..." Peter finally sighed, curling in on himself as he glanced at the thing on the table. It looked like something Tony would make for his suits, and some of the fans inside had choppy movements, like a bad stop motion film. He really hadn't anticipated Thor working on Tony's things behind his back, even less while watching a movie. "Why are you up?" He yawned, reaching under the table to pull out a water bottle. His stomach was hurting again, it felt too hot.

Thor picked up a small screwdriver from the tools he'd organized onto the table, fiddling with it before propping open a cover hidden within the machine. "It appears Tony had made the same miscalculation on his most recent armor he'd made the first time." He closed the lid and placed the screw back in before setting everything in its place. "I'm simply returning his kindness towards me by adjusting it to the correct levels." The machine beeped and he could hear something turning inside the piece of armor. "There. It should be much better now." Thor grinned in success and the rotors began turning rapidly, the gears finally falling into place.

_He watched the gears falling... She was falling..._

Peter shut his eyes quickly, knowing he couldn't let himself drift off again if he'd wanted any chance of comfort. He pulled his legs tighter, clutching the water bottle against his chest before finally opening it and drinking some. It helped his strangely sore throat, and he inwardly hoped he hadn't been screaming in his sleep. It had happened the first time, but they didn't know. "You want one?" He asked, realizing Thor had noticed him stare his bottle down for the past minute.  _What is he thinking?_

Thor let his eyes linger, before letting them drop back down onto what he had finished working on. It was silent for a minute, before Thor lowered the tool onto the table, tv making the light from the screen flicker off the reflection in the glass. He raised the remote and paused the film, the silence that replaced it made Peter feel like he'd suddenly been woken up from a deep sleep again. "If you are unable to sleep due to nightmares," He faltered, seeing Peter's eyes widen in either embarrassment or denial before pushing himself to continue. "Please know you may always come to me, if that's alright." 

Peter shook his head abruptly, ignoring the blurring that it caused in the sides of his vision. It was probably just the lack of sleep. "What? No, I'm not having nightmares...I just..." He looked down at his hands, closing them into loose fists as he remembered the voices. He could handle this on his own, it wasn't as bad as it could've been. He was really tired now, and didn't want to talk about it. That was all. "...I just can't sleep. Thinking... too _much,_ I guess." It was true. Maybe that's why he couldn't sleep, but considering everything else going wrong with him, he doubted it. He let himself sink back into the nook of the couch as he stared at the paused screen, staring at the cell block as a lone guard stood in the middle.

"What of ?" Thor pressed on.

He ignored the sudden frustration, and the vaguely echoed _leave me alone_ deep in his mind. He didn't mean it, it was just there on its own and it worried him more each time he'd hear it. "Stuff..." _Liar..._ He felt like his throat almost seized when it hit him. It was the same voice from his _dream,_ now with him while he was awake. What if it wasn't going away? "...I don't know but I'm okay. I'm fine now." _We- ...I have to be fine._ He looked away, immediately wanting to cover his ears as he heard a laugh whispered against the inside of his head.

Thor'd been away for the past three days, so he hadn't seen Peter as much. But from what he could remember before he'd left, the boy in front of him never looked so nervous all of a sudden. Especially not when they were alone. "Would you prefer I stay and resume the film or would I be a burden?" Thor cautiously asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, now wanting to make sure his presence wasn't suddenly unwanted from the prying.  Had something happened when the lab was destroyed? He didn't know all the details but-

"No, it's fine Thor." Peter interrupted, nestling down onto the couch, feeling his energy drain again. He could sleep here. Had to sleep here since there was no way he could bring himself to go back upstairs. "Maybe a little background noise will do me good. What are you watching?" He glanced back as Thor rewinded the film, setting the armor piece onto the table and propping his feet up as he found the place he'd stopped watching.

Thor kept his eyes on the screen, watching as the guard Peter had seen came into view, resuming his position like before. "Something called The Green Mile, so far the feature is very entertaining. Though I worry for what will happen one of the men in the cells." The screen jumped over to where a large black man in his cell whispered 'careful' to the lone guard. "Him." Thor nodded, drooping an arm over the side of couch's armrest. 

"How come?" Peter watched, eyes beginning to close. It was a  _really_ nice couch, and it felt safer to sleep in than his own bed. But maybe the movie was helping. Or Thor. Or a little of both.

"They believe he's the murderer of two little girls, but I can't help but think of him as innocent." Thor explained, sighing as he stretched his legs out. "He doesn't have the eyes of someone capable of killing a child, much less two." He yawned, keeping an eye partially open to keep up with the film. He frowned when they brought in another criminal, who'd honestly looked like the shady guy who would stare at you from the alleyways. " _Him,_ I do not like at all." The new convict suddenly began attacking the guards causing a scene as he fought them for the fun of it, laughing endlessly and goading the other guards to attack him. He was finally hit from behind and dropped his choke hold on a one of the guards and was pried off.

"I know the feeling." Peter chuckled humorlessly, watching as the man once held hostage gulped in air as he struggled to breathe right. He could breathe now, calm and safe. As cheesy as it was, he was actually really glad Thor was in the room. A presence of comfort, making it easier for him to relax again.

He jolted awake, hand clutching the couch when he heard screams. And water? When did he fall asleep? He let the couch go, and winced when he'd noticed a few tears in the leather.

"Apologies." Thor quickly lowered the volume, as the man on screen was hosed down with cold water. _That would explain the noises..._ Peter thought, letting his heart calm down. "I had not intended to wake you. It shall remain on the lowest setting."

"Hmm." Peter sighed, tiredly drinking from his water bottle he was now sleeping on. He rolled onto his side, arm under his head as he drifted off again. He could feel the blanket placed over it, trying to mumble a quick thank you.

Thor could barely make any sense of the words, but he knew what he'd meant. It was the thought that counted, after all. "Rest well, friend." Thor smiled, laying back onto the couch after making his way back. He glanced over one last time, lowering the volume just a little more before watching the film again. 

 


	8. Holy shit this is so bad

 Bruce walked into the lounge area, warm tea in hand as he spotted Clint and Tony sitting on the couches. Tony was working diligently, Clint's hearing aid in one hand and a small lazer in the other. _Probably making more adjustments again._  Bruce thought to himself as he made his way around the lounge. Clint was staring at the tv screen as the news played, not really focused on it but more than likely just giving him something to do while he waited for Tony to finish. He looked up and gave a small wave when he saw Bruce come into his view. "He still sleeping?" Bruce glanced over at the slight rise and fall of the blanket huddled at the end of the couch. He'd seen Peter lying there earlier in the morning when he went to pick up his laptop from the coffee table, but said nothing as to not wake him. That had been about three hours ago but he still hadn't even stirred in the slightest, from what he could tell.

Tony nodded, putting down the hearing aid onto a small cloth on the table before bringing up his mug of coffee. "Thought he woke up a little while ago," Tony took a gulp of his coffee as he motioned over to the sleeping teen with his other hand. Bruce swore if he hadn't turned off the lazer he would have burned a line to his right. "Sat up and everything. But then he kinda just face planted back onto the couch. It was _amazing_ , you should've seen it." Tony grinned from the memory, then continued working on the device without another word. He laughed when he glanced over again at Peter, shaking his head.

 _"Tony."_ Bruce crossed his arms, knowing full well that his tale didn't really explain anything.

"It  _was._ Clint can be the second opinion." Tony pointed his tool over at Clint, who was watching their conversation in case it was something important. He was struggling to find something to do since today was his off day, and a whole lot of nothing only made him want to sleep too.  _Better than anything in the news._ Clint yawned, mouth wide as he signed, chin in his hand as he turned back to the television. He let out a sigh of defeat and leaned back against the pile of blankets covering Peter, stretching his arms before dozing off himself within the next minute. Half expecting some kind of reaction from the sleeping teen, they watched as Peter only turned so he was facing the couch, unconsciously giving Clint more room to lay down.

"Why's he out here anyway?" Tony turned shut his tool off with another click and left the hearing aid on the table in front of Clint. He turned off the tv, letting the soap opera that just came on disappear into black. "Watching dirty channels past his bed time?" 

"I believe he had trouble sleeping," Thor came in, towel over his shoulders as he stepped out of the elevator. His outfit made it somewhat clear that he'd been working out, whether in his room or the gym on the floor above them. "I was still awake and watching the film you had lent me. It was very good, by the way." He nodded his thanks at Tony, as he strolled behind the bar and fished out a water bottle.

Tony frowned, not liking the news. "Nightmares? Never told us anythings about that." He let his eyes fall back onto the sleeping form currently buried under Clint and several blankets. If he had nightmares bad enough to seek out  _some_ kind of comfort, it couldn't be a good thing. 

"Neither did you." Bruce shrugged, making a mental note to stop by again on Peter's floor after he'd woken up. "Scared the hell out of the rest of us a few times." It was safe to say no one was all that comfortable whenever Tony would suddenly scream and send several suits flying to his floor as Jarvis  It was bad enough Tony wouldn't talk at first but when it got so bad Jarvis had to actively wake them to help, he'd finally gave in and let them help. Maybe they had to go through the course of action again with their newest member before it got too far. But it wouldn't have to come to  _that,_ at least they didn't think so.

And then Peter shot out from underneath Clint, foot hitting the ground before any of them could react. He would've made it to the door if his legs didn't appear give out, and his face immediately made contact with the hardwood floors with a loud bang. No one moved in the next few seconds, still processing that that just happened. It was only the muffled " _Great."_ That brought them back to their senses and Tony had kneeled by Peter to help sit up. "You okay, kid?" 

Peter groaned, lightly rubbing his palm against his face where he'd hit the deck the hardest. It was bad enough his spider sense was making him jumpy for no reason whatsoever, but having his foot completely  _stick_ to the ground once he'd moved wasn't really helping either. "Foot fell asleep. Clint's heavy." He lied as Thor pulled him to his feet and kept him steady, glad to have some form of back up for what just he just went through. The "back up" alibi he'd had for his dead leg was now pulling himself off the floor after having his cushion be suddenly yanked out from under him. _"Why."_ Clint whined, grabbing onto the table with one hand and couch with the other. He heaved himself forward from the awkward, half-on half-off position he was in between the couch and table, spotting the hearing aid and putting it on in a fluid motion. "Y'know if you wanted me to move, you could've just asked."

Peter started walking for the elevator, head held in his hands. From what they could tell, it was probably just due to the fact that his skull just hit the ground with enough force to wake a deaf man. But there was no way he would tell them how the voice in his head was ridiculing him with each step. It was driving him insane, but he put on a brave face. "Ima go an' shower. When's lunch?"

"In an hour."

"Okay, cool." He pressed the button for his floor, letting his head rest against the wall as he stood, pressing against it in a hope that it would quiet the voices, even for a minute. It would wake him, make him sick as it twisted his thoughts, making him angry and wanting to beat down each person he saw. It wanted blood, made _him_ want blood and it scared him and yet-

"Hold up!" Tony scrambled as he got up and jogged to go with him, just barely catching the elevator doors before they shut. "Need to check up on the suit i'd left powering overnight." He added quickly, smile on his face falling as he watched Peter only side glance him from how he was currently standing. "Peter, you okay? You're sweating."

Peter sighed, nodding. "I just feel really _hot..."_ He raised a hand, "And  _no,_ not that kind of hot. So don't." He didn't even have to turn his head to know Tony was about to make a comment about his growing self confidence and some other shit. "And I'm not sick." He already had a headache, god his life sucked. Even without the whole _hey i'm the one tht destroyed an entire lab and may have fucked my self up in the process,_ it was safe to say he wasn't the luckiest person in the the world, much less New York. "I've been sleeping buried under about four different blankets for the past several hours with the windows closed, so I think that's understandable." The elevator dinged, he was at his floor.

Tony grinned, ignoring the faint worry in his head for now, seeing as how Peter still had his snark to fight with. "Not really a morning person are you? Or more like afternoon person? Is that a thing?" He raised an eyebrow  as Peter rolled his eyes and walked away with a small, mocking laugh. The door shut over Tony's smile, leaving Peter to walk the hall in silence.

They each _technically_ had their own floor, but seeing as how many rooms were in a single hall, it would take forever to try to keep everyone separated for long. So Peter's floor had a huge training room that would make any acrobat and gymnast proud, maybe even a little awestruck. Everything he could ever need to practice his swings or balancing or flips. Then he had his room, simple enough to make it cozy but with just enough gadgets to make it Stark, he had a small tech room, which honestly was nothing compared to the lab they hav-err... _had._ He could make small repairs to his gear or improvements but anything too major had to be done on floor that now needed a bit of re-decorating. Then he had the stairwell, which  _obviously_ was only there whenever Tony's newest project would shut down the power.

Just as a precaution.

Because the last time it happened, Steve wouldn't get in the elevator for a month. So yeah.

Anyway, after he'd made his escape, he pulled the door to his room shut behind him. He took a step when he heard the wood crack, and raised a hand to find the doorknob stuck firmly in his open hand. "Oh, you've gotta be _kidding._ " He groaned, letting his head fall back, as he stared up at the ceiling in frustration. I.  _Hate. it. Hate it. Hate..._ The voice whispered again, and he could almost  _hear_ the smile in it. "Shut  _UP."_ He snapped, grasping the side of his head with a free hand as he walked over to his desk. He pulled the metal, hitting his hand against his desk when it proved in vain. Reaching under the table and bringing out his small tool box, he'd reached for the screwdriver hesitantly. Picking it up and examining it, the silver shined as the light reflected off of it. Deciding it wasn't worth the risk, he put it back in the box and closed the lid. If he'd missed, it would be a hell of a lot harder to explain a hole in his hand and the bloody tools than a sticky situation.  _Let's save that as a last resort for now..._ _Go for blood._

He froze, shaking his head shakily to clear his mind. As much as he'd try to lie though his teeth, it was getting harder to separate his thoughts from the other one. Maybe he should tell them, show them how his powers had gone to shit and now that he had evidence-

The door knob hit the floor with a clang and it wasn't until Peter glanced down that he'd realized the screwdriver was back in his hand. He recoiled, letting the screwdriver drop alongside the doorknob.  _Couldn't do it. Too weak to do it, weren't you? I could have done it. I can do it. I'll do it if I need to._ Peter fell back onto the floor, staring at the metal equipment in front of him. What if he hadn't snapped out of it in time? Would he have gotten it off? What if he pried too much and he _stabbed_ himself? What if-

_//Peter, Master Barton has asked me to inform you that lunch is ready. Would you like me to call the lift for you?//_

"N-no..." Peter jumped back to his senses, slowly picking himself off the floor as he kicked the knob and screwdriver under his bed, clearing his throat as he found his voice. "C-Can you let him know I'll come back in another hour? I've already missed the last patrol."He picked at his hand, walking to his bathroom and running it under water, believing it would somehow erase what just happened. If it got too bad, he'd tell them. He would tell them, and they would help him fix this... Only it it got too bad...

 _//Of course, sir.//_ The room was silent again, and Peter walked out to his drawers to pick out another suit, tugging it on as he caught himself in the mirror. He looked like he'd just ran marathons, red faced, exhausted eyes ad looking like he might be sick again. He pulled the mask on, staring at the white eyes before peeling his eyes off and jumped out his window without a sound. He was fine. He was  _strong_ _._

_I can do this. We can do this, Peter..._

* * *

 You know that feeling you get in the back of your shirt when the little plastic string that holds the tag is pricking you every minute? And you don't realize how annoying it it until its all you think about even when you try not to think about it and you just want to rip off you shirt and pull that thing out as soon as you can? This was Peter right now.

Shit, this was him for the past _hour_ as he swung as gracefully as he could past the tall buildings. It was irritating. He could feel _something_ brushing up between his web shooters and his wrist from inside his suit with each swing. At this point, he was seriously starting to wonder if he'd crashed into a bush or something recently that would explain whatever it was that was bugging him. It wasn't so bad _before_ , it had only felt like just a little itch at first, but the thing was starting to chafe against his skin and was making him wince every time his arms lifted him up into the sky.  _I can handle it...I can handle this._ Peter shut his eyes as he felt a small spike of pain hit his wrist. It was like if someone just pricked him with sewing needles. He took in a deep breath as he leaped over a small lamp post.  _I can handle this, I'm Spiderman,_ _I can do it-ow, okay nope._

_No._

_Hell no, not doing this._

_Abort,_ abor- **ow.**

He stopped, landing on the side of a warehouse."Jesus, what the hell?" His arms were extremely uncomfortable now, he'd just wanted to rip his suit off at this point. Bracing the inside of his arms tightly around him didn't really do as much as he'd hoped.  _I swear, if Tony put something in my suit again..._ He peeled off half of his suit, bare skin on his back pressed against the bricks behind him as he yanked one of his arms out of his sleeves, expecting some rubber spider or something inside that were the reason his arm was acting up and  _oh, what._

 _The._  

**_Shit._  **

 It wasn't a bug. It wasn't something Tony would put as his usual pranks, hell Peter knew _anyone's_ pranks. It was  _him._ Looking down at his wrist, his heartbeat raced in his ears as his struggled to take a deep breath, finding the source of it all. "Wha...What the fu..." He breathed out, feeling like someone had a death grip on his lungs.

The was a little hole in his wrist. On the inside of his wrist was a little _hole_ , like if he was missing a circle of skin, and there was something coming out.  _Something was coming out of his arm._ He'd almost lost his grip on the building, feeling nauseated as he pulled on whatever the string looking thing was that had poked through the skin. He yelped, simply touching it sending shocks through his arm to his head. It was sticky and  _God, I can feel it under my skin when i move it I'm gonna hurl-what the fuck._ "Is this...web? It's _web...Oh_ god, oh my- _ugh_." He gagged briefly and clamped a hand over the hole, not being able to bear what he'd just seen. Web's coming out. Poking out of him like a broken bone or-

  _I'm gonna hurl I'm gonna hurl I'm gonna hurl I'm_

He barely made it in time. His stomach churned and he was on the ground, having leapt from the building's side and hiding behind a dumpster next to an overpass. He threw up, holding the mask back in one hand and stomach in the other, until tears started to form and he was leaning on his side, breathing heavily. "What the _hell's_ going on, why is there-?" He shook his head as he re-dressed himself, waiting for the nausea rolling inside him to stop as he hid in the shadows of a nearby alley. _This isn't good... Is it? We're getting stronger, Let me do it. I can do it._ He needed to go. He needed to be out of the streets and back home, right _now._ His heavy breathing started to hurt his empty stomach already to the point where he could feel it beginning to cramp up.  _Patrol's gonna be cut short now. I'm not gonna be able to handle...this. Not yet._ Bracing himself, Peter shot his web-shooters onto a lamp post, trying to ignore the twinge he felt on his wrist as he moved into the sky. He would walk the last blocks home, he was too far to get there on foot soon. _God,_ what was happening to him?

* * *

He'd made it back running up the stairs, hurriedly announcing his return to Jarvis as the lights were gradually turned on once he'd made it into his room. He shuffled immediately into the bathroom and clicked open his first aid kit. Snatching out some bandages and the scissors, he shakily pried the suit off himself. He slowed when he'd reached his arms, inhaling slowly as he braced himself. _What if it's worse? It can't get worse...we're fine._ Peter shut his eyes as soon as he started taking out his arms, controlling his anxiety as much as he could before looking down at his arm. Either it was coming out on its own, or the ride back rubbed it enough to make it stretch out further. Either way, he got light headed and his spider sense was blinking at him rapidly, like someone beeping out morse code behind his eyes. He took a deep breath and made quick work of cutting the string small enough that it was almost unnoticeable, shakily wrapping his wrists with the bandages to hold the web in place. Slightly feeling his pulse around the tightly wound bandages, he sighed as he felt the discomfort in his arms finally cease.

Only to be replaced by the discomfort in his stomach.

The next few minutes were his usual routine from the past few days, leaned over uncomfortably with his head hanging into the porcelain throne, trying not to feel the pain as the bile spilled out of his sore throat. His eyes were screwed shut as he coughed out the last of it, leaning back with his legs tucked under him. A weak hand reaching up to flush and him sitting there feeling like crap again.  _My throat's killing me..._  

_//Peter, do you require assistance? My thermal scans are indicating a rise in your temperature.//_

"I-I'm fine, J. Can I uh," Peter swallowed, grimacing against the putrid taste in his mouth, "Can I have some water? Or a little bit of mouthwash?" He'd just wanted to get rid the taste in his mouth and was too tired to reach for a toothbrush or the sink. A small tray lowered from the ceiling, with a bottle of water labeled 'Peter's' came to a stop in front of him. He smiled briefly, before opening the water and relishing how great it felt to rinse his mouth out.

_//Peter, according to my scan your current condition is unstablizing. I shall request assistance from the others in a moment.//_

He'd almost spit out the water he was drinking, stuttering a quick "Auntie M" as he began hacking from the surprise. He coughed out most of liquid that went down the wrong pipe before unsteadily getting to his feet. His right leg gave out, and he hit the floor with a hard thud as his head began spinning. _Oh shit. Oh shit. I'm okay, holy shit..._ _This_ was bad. First he sleep webs, then there's voices, then he cant control his stick and now he's basically evolving or  _mutating_ or some shit? He could probably wake up to six more _eyes_ a this point.  _Maybe I should tell them. They'll be pissed as hell but they might know what to do right?_ They wouldn't send him to some weird scientists like some human... _sort of human_ test subject right? He rushed to put on his change of clothes, opting for some shorts and a longsleeve so he could avoid looking at the white of the bandage for now. "I-I mean, Bruce probably knows what to do right? A-and Tony's... Tony's got all kinds of thing's, m-maybe he can help too?"  _What if they get mad? They'll hate us, don't trust them with this,_  His mind echoed as he ran down the stairs for the lounge, knowing he'll find at least  _one_ person. He'd take anyone really, just so he knew he wasn't as alone as he'd felt right now. _You know what'll happen me if we go to them. They won't like it._ It fluttered in his mind in dread, knowing the whole truth might just be enough to make them think less of him. What if they kicked him off the team? Would he have to find somewhere else to live? Go back to the abandoned warehouse like before?

He'd stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Tony, sitting in the bar and hunched over a tablet. He didn't look up when Peter came in, too focused on whatever he was looking at. His brows were furrowed, and he had the start of a frown beginning to etch itself onto his face. Peter backed away slowly, one step at a time as his mind raced for other options. He _looks pissed. Look for someone-_

He glanced behind him as a familiar shape walked by, nose in a book and blond hair peeking over it. _Clint!_ Peter could have jumped for joy. He trusted the arrowhead, the arrowhead trusted the bugboy and it was just what he needed to finally _relax._   _Clint, hey I really need help._  Peter rehearsed mentally, trying to seem as calm as possible as he strolled to catch up to his friend. _I screwed up. Hey, Clint i think I'm in trouble... We can do it._ Finally just a few paces behind him, he mustered up his courage, opening his mouth to speak. "Clint, hey-"

"Dude!" Clint eyes widened as he turned, grinning and completely forgetting about the book he was immersed in literally a second before. "I was looking for you! There's a few moves I've been wanting to show you. Wanna bump up our sparring schedule to now?" He slapped a hand behind Peters back, leading him into the elevator and pressing the button for Natasha's floor. She had the better sparring gym out of the others, anyway.

Peter fumbled his thoughts, starting to rethink his plan. _Nat's gonna be there. "Y-Yeah,_ sure I just-"Peter balled up his hands into fists, overthinking immediately about what could happen in the next few minutes. She's _working closely with Fury lately, what if she tells him? S-She'll send us away. She's not going to-_

"Hey...You alright Bugs? You look like _crap."_

Peter realized he'd spaced out and was looking ahead, probably with a thousand yard stare from the look Clint was giving him now. Like he'd suddenly gained a third eye. Which might be in his near future at this rate. "Way to make someone feel good about themselves, Clint." He tried playing it off, maybe he should wait a little longer.  _It'll go wrong if we tell them, hide it...Just wait..._

Clint lowered himself slightly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Sure he knew when Peter cracked a joke it usually either meant to drop it or he's fine, but gut feeling overruling the thought. He hadn't really noticed the bags forming under the kid's eyes until now, just how much had he _really_ been sleeping? "Peter, I'm serious. You good?" Clint frowned, not liking that Peter was keeping silent and avoiding any eye contact. Something _had_ been off about him these past few days... "You didn't do anything stupid did you?" He calmly asked, briefly looking to the side when he'd heard the elevator doors open behind him.

 _Shit._  Peter panicked, over-analyzing how Clint had said  _stupid._ Yeah, so he had done something stupid but he wouldn't just admit it so easily with _that_ tone of voice. The kind of voice that was usually reserved for condescending lectures and punishments.  _Not like this. Abort mission. Maybe ask someone else?_  He stuck his hands in his pockets, hoping Clint wouldn't see the shaking. He would have cheered when he'd felt the scrap of paper in his hands. He'd worn this pair of shorts two days ago, when he went out on a coffee run for Tony. He had the  _Holy Grail_ in his hands."No, it's just my stomach. Went out and had something at the coffee shop." He pulled put the crumpled receipt between two fingers. "I guess it didn't agree with me." He walked out of the elevator, quickly making his way into the gym before Clint looked too much into it. He jumped up the mat, more of a platform really but at least it was padded so it wouldn't hurt when they'd fall. It was mainly close quarters, to be honest.

"You don't need to spar with me if you aren't feeling well." He'd heard Clint jog up behind him stepping up into the mat after Peter. Peter knew he felt the water bottle heading for him, so by instinct he reached over his head and caught the bottle without a second thought. And of course with his _usual_ luck, his sleeve dropped down an inch in the process, revealing the white bandage he'd so frantically wrapped around his arms earlier. And had completely and utterly _failed_ in hiding. 

"What happened to your arm?"

"Still haven't gotten the whole electric-webbing down yet. _Shocking,_ right?" Clint hit his head with a groan, but Peter could see the smile forming behind his hand. Peter weakly laughed, not knowing how he'd been able to think of something to save himself with a matter of seconds. _I can do it. Let me-_ He cleared his throat, shutting down the thought before he focused too much on what was happening in his mind. If he'd stay quiet too long, he'd worry them again. " I bet I'll still kick your old ass in the ring, though." He stretched his arms out, immediately regretting it when the fabric brushed against his wrist. Well,  _shit._ Sparring was going to really screw with him, wasn't it?

"Hey, respect your elders! I'm not even _that_ old." Clint jumped into a fighting stance, and Peter almost flinched when he'd heard the gym doors open again. His heart dropped when he'd noticed the red hair flowing with each step. He really couldn't blow his cover now. She would know the second something happened, Natasha was  _skilled_ in getting information or piecing together the puzzling things. And Peter's situation was so  _un-_ puzzling, he was about as easy to see as a stamp on white paper.  _I'm so screwed..._ She was always the one to ref their sparring matches, so there was no reason why she wouldn't do it  _now._  

_I can do this. I can do this._

He doubted his thoughts, knowing how he can _so_ not do this. It'll take everything he's got just to make it seem like he's at least 80% okay, and even then they'd be suspicious. He watched dreadfully as Clint started taking off his hearing aids, the start of their match coming within the next minute. He started crouching, as per usual, as he felt cold sweat on the back of his neck. His legs already felt like they'd been beaten with bats, and his heart more or less vibrating from the speed his pulse was coming in through his temple. 

 _"You ready?"_ Clint grinned, signing off as he chugged one last time at spare water bottle in the corner of the ring.

Natasha groaned as he phone buzzed on a nearby bench. She picked it up, skimming the words as she made for the exit. "You two aren't going to have an audience, but I wanna see the end of a clean fight when I come back, boys. First one to send the other out of the ring is declared winner." She waved a small flag before she stepped out, tossing it neatly into a bin by the doors. As soon as she stepped out a bell rung, and Clint shot forward.

_Shit._


	9. Little white lie turning black

_Oh my god._

He dodged to the left, quickly rolling into a leap as he made it to the other corner.

_Ooooh my god this was such a bad idea, who let me do this?_

Peter hoped Clint couldn't notice how he would sway a little every time he dodged a punch. And jesus was he dodging a _lot_ of them. It probably didn't help that they were both basically rolling and jumping since they already knew how each other fought, considering how often they had been side by side in most situations. Every little movement gave away what their next move was and at this point, Peter was pretty sure he was going to face plant onto the mat if he wasn't careful. He glanced back at Nat, completely unsure of _when_ she had even made it back to the gym and was now staring staring at him with an intense look and for a second he felt the fear that she _knew_ what he was hiding.  _Good thing she can't tell nervous sweat from 'being attacked' sweat. I'll be fine._   _I'm fine..._ Peter couldn't feel how he was starting to gasp ever so slightly.  _I'll be fine. I'm fine..._ _  
_

Christ, it felt like they were sparring on a water bed. He was already having a hard time keeping his balance just standing up here but now this?  _If it weren't for the spider sense, I'd be on my ass right now. I'd be on my ass since yesterday._ Peter thought to himself as he dodged another blow on his left. Another miss, and just when he thought the timer had rung, Clint slid a leg underneath him, sending him onto the floor with a hard slam. Clint stopped, breathing heavily as he walked towards him, holding out a hand. Peter cleared his throat and shook his head, sitting up and feigning injury.  _Keep up the act. Timer's still going. Wait for the timer._

 "Keep going." He coughed a few times, covering his mouth with a closed fist. Air was pushed out of his lungs but he managed to get back onto his feet, rolling into a dive and taking Clint down with him. The spar was getting closer to the edge, but he wasn't _worried_.

At least until he felt his legs give out.

Black dots spotted his vision as he tumbled back, cold spot in his stomach replacing everything else when he felt his foot slip off the mat. The split second of free-fall made his stomach lurch but he was immediately pulled back onto safe ground. "Whoa there, Pete." Clint's arm had Peter in a tight grip, what saved him from falling off the side of the platform. Peter shut his eyes with a groan, and took in a sharp breath, feeling something climb and churn inside.  _Oh no. Don't-Don'tthrowupdon'tthrowup_  

"Hey, you alright? Kid?"

His stomach was rolling. Flipping at the same pace as his head.  _I'm fine. Just a little dizzy._ Peter willed himself to say, to  _try_ to say. His head was pounding and it was starting to feel like he was gonna suffocate in this room. His words slipped out in a barely coherent mumble. "Fine...dizzy." He was being lowered down onto the mat, gently enough so it didn't add to his headache. He could hear his heartbeat thudding rapidly in his temples. _What's going on?_ The bell went off, vibrating the mat and buzzing loudly, sending dull pain into his skull before it finally shut itself down.

"Nat?" Clint called out, knowing she had made her way towards them at the slightest incident. Strange as it was that she was next to them so quickly, Peter remembered how she always kept tabs on everyone, making sure they were safe. Peter felt two finger firmly place themselves on the side of his neck but stayed limp, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. He was exhausted, but he could sleep later. "Heating up, getting red, and pulse is increasing." Clint's voice echoed in his mind as Natasha quickly ran to get a wet towel by the bathroom, running back and wiping Peter's face. "I'm going to get Bruce, keep him leveled." Natasha nodded to them before springing to her feet quickly making her way out the door. Peter shut his eyes again, swallowing as his thoughts ran through his mind.

_Find a way out of this. No way am I gonna look weak here. Sick, got the flu, allergies-_

_Allergies!_

"...cat." Peter's hand rose shakily, making a motion of touching a whisker. He signed "allergic" halfheartedly, grip firm on Clint's arm as he began sitting up slowly. Natasha froze for a second before running completely out the door."Hang on, what?" Clint was trying to keep him lying down, but Peter brushed him off. Whisker motion again, had to be done. Clint still had his hearing aid off to the side so he handed it back to him to be safe. "There was...a  _cat._  By the...coffee shop, thought I'd be okay-thought I'd be okay if I didn't touch it." Peter shut his eyes, grimacing as he rubbed them. He took in a deep breath, relaxing onto his back, deciding he felt less nauseous when he was down there, and kept his head on the ground. "You're allergic to cats?" Clint looked down at him in confusion only furrowing his eyebrows when Peter grunted in reply, nodding. Clint kept a hand on Peters wrist to check his pulse. He reached over the side of the mat, putting the hearing aid back on before switching to comms. "Nat, get an EpiPen. He's allergic to cats."

"Won't need it." Peter sighed, shielding his eyes with his other arm. "I'll get over it soon cause of healing. I'm not normal remember?" He could already feel his heart beat slowly making a steadier, more normal beat, and the wave of vertigo was starting to pass. _A little bluff is alright. So long as they don't worry about me too much._  He glanced back at Clint's concerned expression from under his arm, feeling a little guilty.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well you're still taking it. Otherwise I'm not gonna let you get off this floor until you get checked out." He firmly patted Peters chest, and Clint slowly relaxed as he crossed his legs more comfortably. 

Peter huffed, "'S not really a floor. We're in a boxing ring."

Clint sat expressionless for a second, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected argument. "You really want me to drag your ass off this thing? Cause I'd be willing to."

Someone cleared their throat and they both looked over to see Natasha walking in with a deadly glare reserved for Clint. "Hey, you know you never walk in when he starts these things. He's no innocent bystander here!" Natasha rolled her eyes as she used the Epi-Pen on Peter's thigh, and placed it on the ground by them "Yeah, but you're not the one on your back right now." The next few minutes passed by pretty slowly, and against Natasha's advice, Peter finally managed to convince the two of them that he would be fine without a trip to the infirmary. So they were just sitting there quietly.

All three of them.

Two high ranking spy/assassins who could see right through people's words like a window and _him_ , the teenage screw up with a death sentence of a secret hanging over his head. 

Things were going well.

Peter cursed his luck, absentmindedly picking again at his wrists as he watched the other two chat. _They're just talking. Not going through that 'silent communication thing'. Clint's bar story should keep them busy so I can just-_

"You finally okay there, Bugs?" Peter froze in his attempt to slide down the side of the mat, legs dangling over the side, just an inch from the freedom of the ground leading him out of this room. If he ran now, he would be able to hide anything. "Y-Yeah, I'm just gonna get something to eat. Kinda hungry after the whole one on one thing."

"Ah, bottomless pit's empty again?" Clint laughed, tossing Peter a granola bar. "Here, Nat brought you something-"

It hit him in the face when he turned to catch it. Then he fumbled it, so horribly it looked like something out of an informercial. The granola bar was flipping in the air before he finally manged to snag it with both hands wrapped tightly around it. His mind ran. _Why couldn't I catch that?_

"You sure you're good?" Clint raised an eyebrow, facing on both of them a clear indicator that they both had front row seats to the circus act that just happened.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Peter quickly nodded, waving them off before heading for the door.

They watched the door shut behind him and sat together in silence. Natasha lowered her head, sighing as she shook it. "He's hiding something."

Clint sniffed as he leaned back against one of the ring's posts. He crossed his arms, silently nodding in agreement. They knew him well enough that if they tried probing him about it, he would put up walls and refuse to speak to anyone. "Whatever it is he's not sharing. You sure we can't just-"

"You know you can't Clint." She cut him off, checking her phone again as she stretched her arms. "I may have read his file, but you know how he feels about looking into his past."

Clint groaned, slinking down until he had his back on the mat. He let out a long sigh, level of sight connecting with Nat's. "I figured, yeah. Kinda wish he would trust us, though." It did hurt, though he wouldn't admit it, that Peter didn't trust _him._ They were pretty close friends. Since they first day they brought Peter here Clint made sure to make him feel comfortable in his new home.

"He does trust us, Clint." Natasha placed a gentle hand over his arm, Quickly glancing at him before using her free hand to text again." He does, I just think he's still not ready to tell us."

"You have a point." Clint patted her hand, putting his arms behind his head to relax again, even if his mind was running a marathon without him.

"Always do."

* * *

 

 _"Crap!"_  Peter fell on his ass again, balling his hands on the floor in frustration. He took another running start, pushing himself up and off the wall, getting both hands to touch the ceiling above him where he finally managed to stay.

Before falling onto his back again in a second.

Peter breathed out heavily, hitting the floor with a fist. "C'mon, _Stick_ dammit!" He'd been trying the whole afternoon, after leaving the gym earlier. Something had nagging him  since he'd made it out and to his horror, he found out what it was. His extreme balance, his reflexes, his whole  _climbing wall_ _like a spider jig was gone. That had been the whole reason for the whole Spider-man_ _thing!_ Peter rolled and pushed himself off the ground again, prepping himself to make another wall climbing attempt.  _I'm Spider-man, I can't be Peter-Man! Or...Man-man? Dude-man?_

"Oh, man..." Peter groaned out, voice muffled be the run he just fell onto. Maybe he was just having an off day. He could just wait it out, maybe test it later and figure out-

"We have a situation by central park.\" Tony's voice blared into his room, making Peter jump at the sudden increase in sound. "Looks like some kind of robot version of flies are attacking civilians." He heard something clatter on the speakers. "Tony, that's not really how-" Peter raised his eyes to look at the speakers, listening in on the argument."No, no, hear me out. They fly, are mildly annoying, probably buzz from the cheap mechanics you can clearly see from the new footage-" "This isn't the time." Peter let out a tired laugh, hearing Steve and Tony bicker again. "Grab your gear, we're moving out. Report to the jet when ready." His smile disappeared.

"Craaaa _aaaaap._ " He slowly got to his feet, stumbling as his vision suddenly clouded. He opened his eyes and he was back on the rug, arms tingling like all the nerves had simultaneously fallen asleep. His eyes landed on the spare web canisters on his counter top. If he really  _had_ lost his powers, he'd have to rely on all the web e could make. And seeing as how they were now lacking in one  _advanced_ lab, he might be on his last shots for a _long_ time. His left temple was starting to ache again, but he ignored it as he made his way to the door. The still broken door any way, since he'd had no time to fix it and there was no way in hell he would figure out a good reason for his doorknob to be suddenly _missing._

_//Peter, your readings are fluctuating in a manner that causes concern. I would recommend getting medical assistance and refraining from any combat.//_

"'M fine, J. I'll be okay." He took in a shaky breath as the pain subsided, feeling in his arms coming back to him as he pushed at the door.

_//Please remain in your room while I contact-//_

"Auntie M." He sighed tiredly, staring out into the hallway, he found it hard to take another step. This was going to shit, maybe he should have told Clint? God, he was exhausted from having to hide all this. They trusted him and he trusted them. They would have his back no matter what right? 

_What if they didn't, you can't trust them._

"Jesus, do you  _ever_ shut up?" Peter quietly snarled, balling his hand into a fist. He calmly made his way to the elevator, pressing the button to get to the armory in silence. It was only once the elevator jolted to life did Peter's legs almost give out. He'd slammed a hand against the wall for support, not bothering to check if he'd dented the wall by accident. "Oookay, we can do this Parker. We'll do this." He inhaled deeply as the elevator doors opened, determined to give it his all, even if he didn't have it. 

He'd only made it a few feet towards the quinjet before a hand pushed him back. "Uh-uh, Peter." Clint let his hand fall slowly, shaking his head slightly before walking into the jet with his gear, "Not now." He'd gave him a conflicted look before silently making his way into the jet, looking back before getting inside.

Peter froze for a moment, letting the confusion wash over his mind as he processed what just happened. "What are you talking about?" He started after Clint, but stoped short when he felt a firm hand grip onto his shoulder. He looked up, eyes falling onto the blond."Steve?"

Steve looked away for a second, using the other hand to rub at the back of his neck. His brows were furrowed and he seemed at a loss for words, and it made Peter more nervous. Steve was silent for a moment, stealing a glance at Natasha, who'd hurried past with a duffle bag. "I've been talking with the others..." Peter's heart dropped, not having any idea what would come next. Unfortunately, he found out. "Maybe you should sit this one out." Steve was quiet, letting his words sink in.

Peter blinked. _"What?"_  

Steve turned to face him, placing both hands on Peter's shoulders and standing between him and the jet. "Look, Bruce's going to follow us later on, so you don't have to worry-"

Peter scoffed, emotions bubbling over as his mind scrambled to say something. "You...You're not serious? You're kidding right?" Steve was trying to look sympathetic, and it only hurt more. He tore himself from Steve's grasp, betrayal making him lash out. "I'm _fine,_ why should I-I can take care of myself! I..." No. _NO._ He was not about to be left behind. Not _again._  "I'll just stay in the ship!" They couldn't just _leave_ him here like he was some kid who didn't meet the height requirement for some rollercoaster. Shit, his  _life's_ been one  _hell_ of a rollercoster and he was fine. He was not about to have this happen on the _second_ fight. He'd gone through so much before just to learn how to work with the team and Steve wasn't  _listening_ to him. He wasn't. "Just...just in case, y'know?" He wasn't _useless._ Sure he felt useless, looking up at Steve and recognizing that look on his face. The one that's  _You won't like this and maybe I don't either but we have to_ kind of look.

"Peter-"

Peter's shoulders fell, hurt and feeling any will to keep arguing drain from him. _What if they kick me out? Because of some dumb ass mistake, he was about to lose the one good thing he had going for him. It's not like he could go anywhere else..._ "There's nothing _wrong_ with me..."

Steve faltered, taken aback by how defeated Peter had suddenly become. He'd opened his mouth to speak again when Tony's voice cut through their tension like a ragged knife, blaring out with the quinjet's intercom. "They've taken down another power line. I don't think the city's gonna like missing their season finale. Probably a few more reasons why we should stop them, not that we _haven't_ thought about it." The noise died down and the room felt devoid of anything, beside the very faint background of the city below.

Left in the awkward, now silent staring, Steve tried to get Peter to focus on him again. He left out a small sigh, on hand on his hip as the other rubbed his temple. "You-

"Coordinates are _locked,_  and meter's _running-"_

"I'm _on_ it." Steve answered through the com on his wrist abruptly, running out of patience with the man that apparently had none. He raised his hand in one last attempt to comfort Peter, but let it fall when Peter's hurt gaze landed on him. He knew that pained look. His hand formed a weak fist as he struggled to find words, getting a vague sense of Deja Vu from his Pre-Serum days and not being able to do anything. "We'll talk when I get back, just...stay here for now, okay?" Steve quickly walked away, glancing back before the doors shut on him.

"Y-yeah...okay." Peter rubbed his wrist. It had started to ache when he'd snapped, but at least it was gone. The headache had left too, but he knew it would be back again soon. His com link vibrated against his hand, making him twitch uncomfortably. Clicking on the side button, he started walking away from the landing pad. "It'll be alright." Tony's voice came out of the small speakers in Peter's advanced webshooter's, drawing his attention away from the fading engines. Tony sounded even more awkward than Steve did, but he did sound like he cared. "Just wait for us." He sounded like he was trying to be as gentle as he could, staying silent for a few seconds before disconnecting from the line.

Peter raised his gaze, barely making out the quinjet as it shrinking in the distance as it flew deep into the city. Then it started again. The ringing in his ears. The  _voice._ It was always there when he was alone. _They hate you. You're weak._  A ringing like the kind you can't stop hearing when you're up in the mountains, completely silent. _You should've been better, now look at what you've done. Can't you see? They've left you behind...for a reason. You aren't worth looking over._

He  _hated_ it.

 _"I'm not weak!"_ Peter shoved his hands firmly against his ears in vain, hoping it would somehow drown the voice he couldn't stop. He hated it, this voice, these _thoughts._ He wasn't _good_ enough? He was the best he _could_ be and more. He would show them too.  _You can't._  He could prove it, to them, to everyone else.  _Watch me._

He pulled on his mask, clicking on the spare capsules to his wrist before walking to the edge of the landing pad. "I'm  _fine._ I can do this. I have to do this." Pulling on the mask, he tapped on the communicator as it locked on to his teams location, letting his wrist fall and looking out over the drop in front of him.  _It'll be alright._   _I'll make it right..._ He walked off.


End file.
